Those Who Remain
by DragonHeartstring360
Summary: Just a collection of Downton drabbles that aren't necessarily connected or in chronological order. A lot of Brary, although I'm considering exploring other characters. *Edit: each chapter is a different one shot that isn't connected to the previous chapter. If they are connected, I'll put part 1 and part 2.
1. Chapter 1

_Note: I'm not sure how often I'll post on this one. This is just for fun. My other Downton fanfic that I'm more invested in is PREY if you want to check that out. This is specifically a Brary chapter, since I'm still disappointed it didn't happen. *Spoilers ahead if you haven't watched 6x08* Their argument goes a little differently, since I was a bit irritated that no one seemed to be too concerned about Edith and Tom was more upset that Mary had ruined things between herself and Henry. But, anyway, enjoy._

Mary straightened in her chair as she heard footsteps down the hall. It could only be one person. No one else came inside the agent's office except her and Tom. Maybe the occasional visitor, but there was no cause for a visitor today. She made sure to school her expression into a cold mask. She'd become far too good at it, something she'd almost come to regret. Sybil had always been very open about her emotions and Mary had never thought _her_ weak. On the contrary, she'd thought her little sister one of the bravest, strongest people she'd ever known. So why did she think _herself_ so weak if she showed emotion?

Tom's glare pierced her skull as soon as he walked in the door. She nearly crumpled at the sight. He'd never looked truly angry with her before now. She swallowed and avoided his eyes. He wouldn't understand. How could he know the multiple times Edith had tried to ruin Mary's life when they were younger? How Edith had constantly embarrassed her and harassed her about being Patrick Crawley's future wife, how she had even sought to turn Sybil against her at times, how she whined and cried constantly, how she had written to the Turkish Embassy about the incident with Mr. Pamuk? The time between now and then didn't matter—Edith hadn't paid, not yet. She would share in any pain that belonged to Mary. Maybe rage and confusion _were_ blinding her, but she didn't care. What was she supposed to do, when the man she was in love with—the man she _shouldn't_ be in love with—was forcing her into the arms of a man she barely knew? And a _race car driver_ , no less!

"Well, you got what you wanted," Tom growled. "Bertie Pelham's on his way to the train station and Edith _won't_ be married to the next marquis."

She rubbed her fingers together, coiling and uncoiling her fist; it had been a nervous habit since she was a child. It was the only sign of emotion she showed. "Well, that's _not_ what I wanted."

"Isn't it?" Tom moved closer, so that he was standing on the opposite side of the desk.

"What do you mean, ' _Isn't it'?_ " Her voice shook, but more because she was upset at the fact that Tom was angry with her. Tom—who couldn't hurt a fly—looked angry enough to put her through the wall. She wanted to smack herself as she found her eyes roaming his form; as she found herself wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers through his thick hair; as she found her eyes tracing the way his jacket hugged his biceps. _Stop it!_ she scolded herself.

"Why else would you tell Bertie about Marigold?"

Part of her wanted to believe the next sentence that came out of her mouth. But if she'd believed it, she wouldn't have said anything to Bertie in the first place. Still, it was worth a shot to get Tom to not be angry with her. "How was I to know she hadn't told him—"

"Don't lie!" Tom roared. "Not to me! I've stayed silent for long enough, because I just figured it was sibling rivalry, but it's gone on for too long, Mary! When will you stop punishing Edith for your problems?"

"You weren't there when we were younger. You don't know what she put me through—"

"And she hasn't grown past it? You don't think she's matured and tried to be a friend to you now? Because I do! And all she's gotten for her efforts is a sister who can't stand to see her happy!" He paused, catching his breath. "You just don't want Edith to outrank you."

"Bertie deserved to know what he was getting himself into."

"Maybe. But it wasn't your secret to tell."

"Well, it wasn't as if _Edith_ would've told him—"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT! You ruined Edith's life today! You can't stop ruining things—for yourself as well as Edith. How many more lives are you going to wreck just to smother your own misery?!"

Mary stood. She needed to leave before she broke down in tears. She couldn't stand hearing Tom yell at her any longer. "I refuse to listen," she managed before going to move around Tom.

He stepped in her way. "You're a coward, Mary." His voice was quieter this time and she could tell he hated this as much as she did. "Like all bullies, you're a coward."

She stared at him, feeling something inside her break and bend. _No,_ she thought. _No, no, no, please don't cry now, please!_ But it was too late. She collapsed back into her chair and burst into tears, hiding her face in her hands. _No! Not in front of Tom, no!_ He'd already seen her cry after she'd broken off things with Henry, but that had been nothing compared to this. This was full out bawling.

She knew what it looked like: like she was just angry that she'd been caught doing something bad and was crying because she'd been punished. She looked childish. But it was more than that. It was because she was in love with Tom when she shouldn't be, because he was pushing her to be with Henry, because the crash at the race the other day had reminded her so much of Matthew's death. How could she and Tom ever be together? He didn't look at her that way. He was the only one that understood her completely, the only one she felt comfortable enough to be herself around, the only one that loved her home and her son as much as she did. Henry had never once shown interest in either of those things. True, he was nice and handsome, but he didn't _understand_ her. He _wouldn't_ understand her.

The office was silent for several minutes except for the sound of her sobs. She resisted meeting Tom's eyes. She didn't think she could handle the look in them, whether they be angry or sympathetic. But then, it was _too_ quiet. Even in the pauses between her sobs, she heard nothing. Did he leave and she just hadn't noticed? That wouldn't be like him, to just leave her crying in his office. Not unless he really _was_ angry with her.

She dared lower her hands long enough to peek. He still stood there. She promised herself she wouldn't look above his chest, but cracked a moment later. All traces of anger were gone from his face and he seemed to know her tears were something deeper than just getting caught red-handed. His blue eyes—his pretty, blue eyes—were wide and horrified, his body frozen. She hid behind her hands again, unable to hold his gaze.

Finally, he said quietly, "Mary?"

"Go away!" she cried.

She heard him take in a shaky breath. "I—"

"Why can't you just leave me alone?!" She finally met his eyes. He looked on the verge of tears himself. "Why must you always push and shove? Of course I'm jealous of Edith, look at her! She was going to have a marriage with a position and a man she loves!"

"Henry loves you, if you'd just let him—"

"I don't love Henry! How do you not understand? In the past month, I've had to try and get over myself and force myself to move on with Henry, I watched Papa throw up blood and for hours, didn't know if he was going to die or not, take full charge of the estate, see a car crash right in front of me at a race and you don't think I'd be upset?! You don't think I've had enough?!"

He pursed his lips in a thin line, his eyes full of empathy. "I know you're frightened," he said softly, "but Henry—"

"Would you stop with the Henry-this, Henry-that! I swear, sometimes I think you're the one who's in love with him! Because I don't love Henry, I love you!"

As soon as the words escaped her lips, she knew she'd made a mistake. Time froze and an alarm went off in the forefront of her mind. Her body didn't seem to respond to commands and she stayed frozen in the chair. Even her tears seemed to freeze on her face, turning into hot, crusty lines going down her cheeks. She was far too petrified to look at Tom, but she could nearly feel how unmoving he was.

They both were immobile for what felt like eternity. _This_ was why she never showed emotion. _This_ was why she never let anyone in. She would get caught up in her emotions and tell people things she didn't want them to know.

"Oh, God, Mary…" Tom croaked.

"I'm so sorry," her voice faltered. "I—need to leave." She stood and made to bolt for the door.

Tom intercepted her again, grabbing her by the arms, although not roughly. "Wait!" His blue eyes desperately searched her face. "I…" He gulped. "I've only been pushing Henry at you because I never thought I would hear that sentence come out of your mouth."

She sucked in a sharp breath. "W-what?"

"I went across an entire ocean because I thought my feelings were inappropriate and that still didn't work. I thought if I found you a husband, I would finally be able to move on." He paused, staring her straight in the eyes. "I love you, too."

She let out the breath she realized she'd been holding. "Good Lord…" She attempted to regain herself. "Why… Why haven't you told me this before?"

"For the same reason as you. I didn't think I qualified."

"Well, you do."

His lips raised in the ghost of a smile. "Mary… What will everyone else think, if the mother of the future earl of Grantham got together with the chauffeur?"

"I've come to not care so much. I just want myself and my son to be happy—and you're not just a chauffeur."

He was quiet for several moments. "And you think you would be with me?"

She nodded.

"You're certain this is what you want?"

"Tom, you know me just as well as I know you. You know I wouldn't say anything unless I was absolutely sure." She hesitated, then decided for it. She'd already poured her heart out; she might as well keep going. She slowly reached out and moved Tom's hands so they grasped her own. He'd held her hands the other night, after her phone call to Henry, and she'd been longing for their warmth and strength ever since. Her eyes fell to his lips and a wave of exhaustion suddenly hit her. She let herself fall into a slouch before meeting Tom's eyes again. They flickered back and forth between her eyes and lips before he leaned forward and kissed her.

She locked her lips onto his in return, no longer concerned about staying reserved. Tom knew her English side tried to hide things, but he also knew she felt things with every fiber of her being, just as he did. She moved her hands up to grasp his strong shoulders and his own hands explored the curves of her sides. She sucked slightly on his bottom lip, not quite ready to let go.

He pulled away and Mary slowly opened her eyes. Her lips still tingled as she looked him up and down.

"Can I say something without you getting angry?" Tom asked, a guilty shadow passing over his face.

"Of course you can. What is it?"

He hesitated. "I still think you should apologize to Edith."

She rolled her eyes, giving him an incoherent grumble in reply. He chuckled and kissed her again.


	2. Chapter 2

_No Brary in this chapter :( Sorry. I know the Henry/Mary ship really isn't popular—I don't ship it either—but I rewrote their relationship a little bit (actually, more like a lot) and hopefully it's more satisfactory. Charlotte is an OC from my other Downton fanfic, Prey, and I just incorporated her into this chapter. You don't have to read Prey for this chapter to make sense unless you want to know more about Charlotte's origin. I just feel like Henry had some good potential in the S5 CS and it was all wasted. So hopefully I put that to good use here. Sorry for the long author's note and thanks for the read!_

* * *

Mary tensed and sucked in a sharp breath as Henry pulled George onto his lap behind the wheel of his race car. The motor was off, of course, but George still seemed a little too excited for comfort. He was nearing seven years old and taking a real interest in his stepfather's work. She could see them across the racetrack as George grabbed the wheel and pretended to drive. He unexpectedly honked the horn and Henry jumped underneath him. George burst into a fit of giggles before shouting, "Vroom! Turn it on! Let's go!"

Henry glanced at Mary across the way. Unsure what to do, she gave him a tense smile, curling her gloved hands into fists at her sides. Henry gently placed his arms on George's sides. "Let's just pretend for now, all right? We'll go for a real ride some other time."

Mary sighed in relief, glancing at Charlotte sitting next to her. They sat under the tent where the refreshments would be sold at the race tomorrow. Foldable chairs had been set out for them. More for Charlotte's benefit than Mary's, since Tom's wife was somewhere around eight months pregnant. He and Charlotte had gotten married just three months before Henry and Mary had. Charlotte had been raised in America, since her parents had divorced when she was a baby and her mother had whisked her away. But her father was the Earl of Ferrwood, granting her the title of lady. She'd come over from the continent to visit and live with her father for awhile. After getting lost and crashing her car near the abbey, the Crawleys had taken her in and found out her identity, years ago. She'd stayed with them for quite a while after her father went missing. Her older brother, Lord Emmett, thought Downton would be safer for her while all the shenanigans played out. Tom, Sybbie and the Crawleys had grown quite attached to her. She and Tom had been happily married for a year and Sybbie adored her. She was quiet for an American, humble, kind, but fierce and forward-thinking. Back in America, she'd belonged to a theater troupe and was quite famous for her acting. As it was her passion, she hadn't given it up yet, even though she didn't need a job.

As for herself, Mary and Henry had met at Brancaster Castle years ago. Things had been rocky, since his profession had to do with the machine that killed Matthew. But Henry had been patient with her—much more patient than she would've been. She'd tried to break things off after witnessing a car crash at one of his races, but he came to Downton a few weeks later. He'd convinced her to at least continue with a friendship, but they eventually found themselves drawn to each other. Henry had even taught her how an engine worked, to try and help her overcome her fear. Tom had started a repair shop near the abbey and Henry helped out whenever he wasn't racing. After a year of taking it slow, Henry and Mary had finally gotten married. She'd gotten used to his profession, but seeing Matthew's son behind the wheel still made her nervous, even if it _was_ pretend.

"He'll be fine," Charlotte said from beside Mary. Her ocean-blue eyes sparkled and her blonde curls shone in the sunlight that filtered through the open sides of the tent. She always defied convention by wearing her long hair loose around her shoulders, but it suited her. The only time she wore it up was either at dinner—since she lived at Downton with Tom now—or if she didn't want to deal with it that day. "Henry won't let anything happen to him."

"I know," Mary replied. "He's been good to George."

"I see they're finally getting along better."

She nodded. "Thank God for that. I was terrified when George didn't seem to like Henry at first, but they've managed to become friendly." George was still calling him _Mr. Henry_ instead of Da or Papa, but Mary was just glad they were finally getting along. Henry always stayed close by Mary's side when the nanny brought George down to visit. He'd confessed the other night that he hoped one day, he and her son could have a father-son relationship. He wasn't as interested in Mary's work on the estate, but he always asked how things were going with the farmers or taxes or pigs.

"Where did Sybbie run off to?" Mary asked, looking around and suddenly realizing her niece was missing.

Charlotte pointed to where Tom stood talking to one of the other drivers. "She's with her dad." Sybbie glanced over at them from where she clutched Tom's hand. She grinned and ran over, a blue ribbon in her hand.

"Charli," Sybbie used Charlotte's nickname in her theater troupe, "could you help me tie this?"

Charlotte leaned forward. "Where did you get this?"

"Daddy found it in his pocket."

"Where do you want it tied?"

"Around my wrist."

"Mary!"

Mary glanced up at the sound of Henry's voice. He motioned for her to come over by the car. She gave Charlotte and Sybbie a parting smile before standing and moving over to her husband and son.

"Mama, Mr. Henry won't take me for a ride," George complained with a pout.

"I don't think it's a good idea, darling," she replied, raking her eyes over the car. She saw it as less of a monster now, but George had never sat behind the wheel before. He was the last living piece of Matthew and she couldn't help feeling like his life was at stake in a car. "Let him save his energy for the race."

" _Pleeeeeaaaaase_?"

Mary clutched her purse more tightly in her hands.

"I'll go slow," Henry offered, looking almost as pleading as the child on his lap. Racing was his passion and she knew he was fond of George. He would probably enjoy introducing his stepson to cars. "We won't go that far. Just round in a circle on this section of the track. We'll never leave your sight."

"Well, all right," she finally relented.

"Yay!" George cried.

"Please be careful," Mary pleaded.

Henry smiled as the engine growled to life. "Always am."

"Me, too!" Sybbie cried from behind. She let Charlotte finish up in tying the ribbon around her wrist before running over. Mary lifted Sybbie up onto Henry's lap at a nod from her husband. He wrapped one arm around both the children's waists and kept the other hand firmly on the wheel.

Mary backed up to the edge of the track and Charlotte stood and walked down the hill to join her. She surprised Mary by suddenly grabbing her shoulder.

"Sorry," Charlotte said sheepishly. "It's harder to walk down hills when you can't see your feet."

Mary laughed. "I remember the feeling. I thought I would fall to my death when I walked down the stairs at Downton just before George was born." She turned back at a loud _whoop!_ from George and Sybbie. Henry did go slow, as promised. Mary could've kept up with them at a brisk walk. They went several feet before Henry turned the car around and began to make his way back towards the two women.

"Hi, Daddy!" Sybbie cried as they passed by Tom.

He laughed and waved back at her, smiling at Mary and his wife.

Charlotte gave a startled groan from next to Mary, barely audible over the grumble of the approaching car. Mary glanced over to see her sister-in-law's face pale, her hand on her swollen belly. "Charlotte?" she asked. "What's wrong?" She glanced at Tom as she helped Charlotte move back into the chair. His smile faded and he was at their side in an instant.

"Are you all right?" Tom knelt by Charlotte's chair.

Charlotte took a deep breath and Mary heard Henry's car shudder to a halt behind her. She glanced back to see him staring in concern. Sybbie scrambled to the ground and ran over to the trio while Henry scooped George up and slipped to the ground.

"Charli, what's wrong?" Sybbie asked.

Charlotte squeezed Tom's hand. "I think that was a contraction."

"But I thought you still had a month," Mary said, glancing over as Henry and George joined her.

"Only a week or two, actually," Tom corrected. He turned to Charlotte. "Can you make it to the car?"

She nodded.

"All right. Let's get to the hospital." He helped his wife stand up before turning to Mary. His blue eyes were wide and panicked. "Can you take care of Sybbie?"

"Of course," she replied.

"No, Daddy, I want to come, too!"

"Stay with Aunt Mary, darling." Tom leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I'll come get you later so you can meet your sibling."

"It'll be okay," Charlotte added, smoothing Sybbie's hair back. "We'll see you soon."

"We love you." Tom lifted Sybbie up in his arms and kissed her again. He grunted as he put her back down. "You're getting so big. We'll see you soon, all right?"

"Bye," Sybbie said sadly as her father and stepmother rushed to the car.

"How about another ride," Henry suggested, "while you're waiting for your brother or sister to arrive?"

Sybbie perked up and nodded and climbed back into the car with Henry and George. "Mary?" Henry asked, scooting over and patting the half of the seat next to him. He glanced up as Tom and Charlotte's car quickly disappeared into the distance.

Mary smiled. "I'd hardly fit."

"Nonsense. You're slender enough."

"Mama, come ride!" George bounced on Henry's left leg.

She sighed and smiled. "Oh, very well." She squeezed herself onto the seat and George crawled to sit on her lap. She held him tightly as Henry started the car and they slowly made their way around the entire track.


	3. Chapter 3

_For everyone who's wondering, this fanfic is a series of one-shots that aren't in chronological order or connected. I know there were a few people wondering why I didn't continue the Brary story after chapter 1 and why in chapter 2, it was a different version where Mary and Henry are married and Tom and Charlotte are married. Sorry about the confusion. If there ever_ are _two or more chapters that are connected, I'll put a part 1 and part 2 at the top. I'm still stuck on Prey, so here's another TWR chapter while I'm working on it._

 _This is a Cobert chapter, showing them as first time parents. I always felt like they were more hands-on parents than the traditional nobility of their time and like there could've been a lot of cute moments with the girls. The fact that boys inherited and girls didn't for this time period is mentioned in this chapter and the Dowager makes an appearance. She's really hard to write, so hopefully I got her down all right._

Violet sighed from where she was perched on the couch next the fire. "Robert, stop pacing. Your father and I didn't preserve Downton for you and your child just so you could walk a hole in a floor."

"Oh, stop it," he growled, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. "This is nerve-wracking for any husband."

"Your father stayed calm while you and Rosamond were born."

"How do you know? He wasn't in the room."

Violet seemed taken aback. "Certainly not! The birthing room is no place for a man!"

He sighed, taking a drink of his whiskey and staring out the drawing room windows into the night. Cora had been in labor with their first child for several hours and Robert had been restless ever since. The answers he hoped for were lacking outside the window. Only his reflection stared back at him. "I almost wish it were," he replied quietly.

"Well, it isn't!"

"I know that, Mama, but you should've seen her at dinner—"

"I did! She looked no worse off than any woman that's about to give birth."

"That's not true. You heard Dr. Pryder say that this seemed to be a rough pregnancy. She's been in pain and sickly ever since she reached the six month mark."

"I was the same way with Rosamond and I'm alive, aren't I? Suppose you and Cora want more children—are you going to go into a panic every time she gives birth?"

"I—"

A knock on the door caught his attention. His breath caught in his throat as one of Dr. Pryder's assistants entered. "Congratulations, m'lord," he said. "You have a daughter."

"What?" he exclaimed. He had been sure it would be a boy.

"Not a son?" Violet asked. She eyed Robert. "Well, now you'll _have_ to have more children."

"Oh, shush, it's marvelous whatever it is. May I go up now?"

"Of course, m'lord."

Robert quickly set his glass down a little more roughly than he meant to and rushed from the room. He took the stairs two at a time, tripping at the top. The new butler, Carson, eyed him with surprise as the fallen earl collected himself and sprinted past to his and his wife's bedroom. He burst into the room, the door banging against the wall in his haste.

"Shh!" Cora scolded from where she sat in their bed, cradling a small bundle in her arms. "You'll wake her! I only just got her to settle down."

"I'm sorry," he replied softly, closing the door behind him as gently as he could. He slowly lowered himself down onto the mattress next to his wife.

Cora beamed at him. "It's a little girl."

"Pryder's assistant told me." He hesitated before gently moving the blanket out of the way to get a look at the child's face. He gasped. Her tiny, delicate features scrunched up at the sudden exposure to the light and her fists moved to cover her face. Dark eyes flickered open to look at him before closing again. She nestled deeper into her mother's arms, gurgling contently. She had Cora's delicate nose and big eyes, but there was a certain sharpness in her features that reminded him of himself. "She's beautiful…" He gently worked his forefinger into her fist, smiling as his daughter wrapped her tiny hand around his finger. "Her eyes are so dark."

"All babies' are," Cora replied, gently rocking the girl in her arms. "They still might change." She looked up at her husband, her smile gone. "I know you wanted a boy…"

"Oh, who cares about that just now? We have a healthy child, that's all I could've asked for. There will be more children, more chances for a son—I hope."

Her smile returned. "Of course there will be. Although, we'll have to pick a name for her now. I don't remember discussing girl's names." She gave him a sly side-glance. "But I _do_ remember warning you we should, in case it was a girl."

Robert rolled his eyes. "Yes, you were right. What shall we call her?" He chuckled, knowing his wife would recoil at the idea. "We could name her Violet."

She glared at him, drawing another laugh from him. Then she smiled. "Martha's a good name."

He sighed. "Darling, if you won't name her after my mother, let's _not_ name her after yours."

She giggled. "Is my mother really so terrible?"

"Is _mine_?"

"Oh, never mind."

Robert chuckled again at her diversion from the topic. "We do still need a name… I rather like Victoria."

"Mmm… She doesn't seem like a Victoria to me." She paused, thinking. "Gertrude?"

"Oh! Please, no."

"What's wrong with Gertrude?"

Now it was his turn to glare at her. "Nothing, but I really, _really_ don't wish to name my child Gertrude."

"I'm sure there are plenty of nice women named Gertrude—"

"What about Mary?"

Cora frowned in surprise before turning her gaze back to her daughter. They both watched her for several minutes, thinking on it. It was a name that had just randomly sprung up in Robert's mind. It was a good name; he liked it. It seemed to suit their daughter. He couldn't help breaking into a smile as she yawned, showing her soft, pink gums.

"Well?" he prodded when Cora didn't answer.

She nodded. "Mary it is. Little Lady Mary Crawley of Downton Abbey."

He smiled. "It's perfect—just like her."

Mary whined in Cora's arms. "Do you want to hold her?" she suddenly asked.

Robert felt the blood drain from his face. He'd never held a newborn before, except maybe Rosamund after she was first born. But his parents' nanny was nervous about letting a two-year-old hold an infant, so he never got to cradle her for very long. He hardly even remembered doing so, just that it had in fact happened. "Darling, she's absolutely lovely, but I don't know if I'd know how to—"

"Nonsense. Here." Before he could protest further, Cora transferred their daughter into his arms. He cradled her against him, hoping she was comfortable. It was only a few seconds later that she began to cry.

"Cora, she didn't like that. I don't know if I can—"

"All babies cry, Robert. It's nothing against you, silly. Just hold her and she'll calm down."

Mary continued to wail in his arms. "Is she hungry? Does she need her nappy changed? Is she uncomfortable?"

Cora laughed. "Robert, calm down! She just ate and was changed not even ten minutes ago."

"That's enough time for her to go again. Shhh!" He gently rocked her back and forth as he'd seen Cora do moments ago and she quieted in his arms. She snuggled against him, opening her eyes to inspect him. "She's looking at me!" Robert glanced at his wife, smiling in excitement.

Cora grinned and leaned against his shoulder. Robert carefully pulled one arm out from under Mary and wrapped it around his wife, holding his family close. He felt more than grateful for his two girls.


End file.
